


Ticket to Ride

by FailureArtist



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human/Troll Society, M/M, Oral Sex, Religion, boundary crossing, hermaphroditic intercourse, i have never had faygo, sacred prostitution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-29
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-15 06:53:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/524401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FailureArtist/pseuds/FailureArtist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Remember when the fans sent Andrew Hussie to Olive Garden? Now replace Andrew Hussie with Dave Strider and Olive Garden with a church brothel and bread sticks with Gamzee.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ticket to Ride

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place in an AU where the game never happened, Alternia and Earth exist in the same universe, and trolls and humans live peacefully together. There’s probably a very interesting story about how the trolls ended up living peacefully with the humans, but I’m not creating an intricate backstory for a PWP story.

Dave Strider stood before the Houston Partyin Family Worshipirum of Tents and Mirth with 333 North American boonies in his pocket. He’d been sent there by the faithful readers of his blog. They’d raised the money now burning a hole in his pocket for him to take on this assignment: buying a prostitute.

For this worshipirum was not just a place of worship, but a place of sex. Priests and priestess had sex with generous devotees. It was their way of showing the universal love preached by the Juggalos, or at least the universal love preached by the extremely radical Partyin denomination. They called it worship, but the state called it prostitution and the two clashed. After many fierce court cases, the North American Supreme Court upheld the rights of the troll sect.

When that ruling came three months ago, someone on Dave’s blog suggested as a joke that the readers should raise money for a “special” donation to the Partyin sect now that it was legal in Texas. The joke turned into a fundraising account. Though he played along with the joke, Dave had stopped them when the tally reached 350 and he stopped discussion on it. He felt guilty about the whole thing but didn’t want to say anything. However, the idea did stick in his head. He was curious to see what would really happen. He also figured he owed it to his adoring public. So he cashed out the account and drove over to the nearest Partyin worshipirum.

The worshipirum wasn’t an imposing stone edifice. It was just a tent. One of the big sturdy tents used by circuses, but still just a tent. Despite what one would expect from a religion that celebrated traveling entertainment, not every worshipirum was movable. Most were permanent buildings. Dave suspected that this radical sect still needed to keep a quick run-away. It was located so far on the edge of the Houston Metropolitan Area the name was a misnomer.

Dave spent a long time taken pictures of the outside with both his phone camera and his full camera. Every picture taken with his phone was tweeted with full 140 character comments. He walked around. He took pictures of its skuzzy neighbors. He took “artisty” shots. Finally he got up his courage to just walk in.

He entered what could be called the narthex, though Dave thought of it as the lobby. The area was only ten feet deep. It was separated from the rest of the tent by one of the partitions used in voting center but in wild neon colors. Where one couldn’t miss it was a pedestal with an offering box. The offering box had only one dollar bills, coins, and a few cigarettes (Dave recognized an American Spirit along with the Kools). It was obvious he wasn’t going to make his big donation in this little box. Off to the side was a card table with pamphlets and magazines in Alternian. Behind it sat a fat male troll with a menthol in his painted mouth. He looked at Dave funny when he took some pictures. When Dave was done cataloging everything, he went up to the troll he considered the receptionist.

“I got more boons than that box can handle,” he said to him, “Who do I slip them to?”

The receptionist waved his cigarette at the box. “You can slip it in the motherfucking box.”

Dave felt like just doing that but he got enough courage to push the matter. “You don’t understand, man, this isn’t just some tourist’s payment for wearing down the paint on the icons with their camera flash, this is a special donation of three hundred thirty-three godbless dollars.”

The receptionist’s eyes widen at the number. He stood up quickly, dropped his cigarette on the floor, and ground it into the rubber mat with his foot.

“I’ll get the head priest,” he said as left for the back of the tent.

It took surprisingly little time for the head priest to come. Soon his long horns could be seen over the partition. When he came into view Dave saw he was mostly horns and not much height. He wore black and silver vestments that wouldn’t seem that outré if it weren’t for the metal codpiece with the running man symbol. The codpiece wasn’t limited to this sect but was universal as Dave found out from his minimal research.

“What the fuck is it, my dear motherfucking brother?” the head priest said in a sophisticated bass.

Dave answer, “I’m here to make a donation.”

“Are you a member of this cult?” asked the head priest.

“Nope.” Dave believed the head priest already knew that and was just asking out of custom. The Cult of the Mirthful Messiahs was a religion for trolls. Even radical Juggalos didn’t like taking on humans.

“You understand, giving this does not make you a member. You must go through many unpleasant trials.”

“Just want to be a devotee.”

“Yes, everyone can gaze upon the Mirthful Messiahs with something akin to miracles.”

“I’m thinking of gazing upon some priests with something akin to motherfucking loving, if you know what I mean.”

“May I see your money?”

Dave handed over 3 hundreds, 1 twenties, 1 fives, and 8 singles (he skimmed off seventeen for gas because this place was so goddamn far away). The head priest stared as if he had never seen that much money. Dave wondered how much this place usually raked in for “special” donations. Were they giving it out for twenty boons a pop? If he’d known that, he could have had gas money for a couple months.

“Thank you very motherfucking much,” said the head priest as he put the money in his codpiece (eww) and walked away to the partitions.

Dave was afraid he was being cheated. The head priest was treating his donation as a, well, donation to the worshipirium, instead of payment for sex. Dave couldn’t do anything about it because he was too embarrassed to ask for sex outright. It wouldn’t look cool to act like an outraged customer. The head priest had taken advantage of Dave’s ignorance and embarrassment. Plus, he’d gotten the money all gross so Dave wouldn’t ask for it back. Dave wasn’t getting the prostitute his fans demanded. He felt almost relieved he wouldn’t have to follow through.

But the head priest looked around the partition and gestured for Dave to follow. Dave followed the head priest through the partitions till they got to the sanctuary.

The sanctuary, or arena as Dave thought of it, was a big open dirt-lined square. On either side were metal bleachers and in the middle was running-man statue in a fountain. Dave found the setup disappointing, but he still took a lot of pictures.

“We don’t have everything up during the day,” the head priest explained, “Yet you can see our miraculous Faygo fountain.”

“So, that’s supposed to be Faygo…” Dave said.

“All the flavors mixed together in a motherfucking rainbow,” he said about the reddish-brown substance.

“Yeah, a rainbow of every shade of mud. So, where is everyone?”

“As I said, this is day, and we don’t have many priests in the first case so…”

“So I don’t have a huge pick of priests. Or priestesses.”

“If you want you can come back later…”

“Nah, I want to do this today.” Dave knew if he left now he’d never come back.

“Motherfucking good, we can still provide a party for you, if you so wish. Please wait here a motherfucking moment.”

And Dave made himself wait.

\----

Gamzee was chilling on the floor of the Head priest’s office trailer when the head priest came in. He jumped up and ignored the stars in his vision to address his superior.

“Oh hi, your Hilarity, I was just restin’, but I’ll be getting back to filin’ all quick-like.”

The head priest looked at the mess in the office and doubted the junior priest had even started in the first place. He wasn’t going to push it. He had a more important job for the clergytroll.

“You can finish the filing later…”

“Oh bitchtits, thanks!” Gamzee said as he collapsed again.

The head priest cleared his throat. “After you host a party for a devotee.”

Gamzee sat back up. “Whatzit? A devotee? A party? Now?”

Even though Gamzee had been serving as a priest at this worshipirum for a year, he had only hosted one party. Despite what the media thought, the practice wasn’t that common. A party was a special, sacred ritual that devotees treated with caution. Besides, there weren’t many devotees or even many trolls in the area (trolls found it too sunny).

When Gamzee decided he would be receptive to partying, his moirail Karkat was against it. Karkat had never really liked in the first place Gamzee becoming a priest in a religion that was barely out of its violent stage, but he found this practice of his denomination especially offensive. He was a romantic and he believed sex should be restricted to deep committed relationships. Gamzee told him that he wouldn’t be practicing sex without love; he would love everyone that came to him. This argument didn’t convince Karkat, but Gamzee soothed his worries by telling him he probably wouldn’t have to do it very often.

His first party came relatively soon after he told his moirail that, a month later. He and the devotee cuddled fully-clothed for an hour. They were unsheathed, so it wasn’t entirely non-sexual, but neither of them pailed. Gamzee didn’t run into any problems and he enjoyed the experience. Karkat was still worried, but as time went by and nobody else came, his worry disappeared. Gamzee himself thought of it as a one-time thing, but now it came up again.

The head priest said, “Yes, he just came in and he isn’t interested in coming back later. I’m afraid that since there aren’t any other motherfuckers around to carry out the ritual, the task comes down to you.”

“I can handle it, no prob, I’m just surprised it’s a happenin’. Show me at the motherfucker.”

“Ummm, I should warn you, he isn’t the typical guest. He is a devotee, but he’s not a member of the Family.”

“Hey, then I can bring him into faith.”

“That might be hard because…he’s a human.”

“Whooooa, a human?”

“Humans are currently technically allowed to be members, you must remember, Brother Makara.”

“Yeah, I know, I keep up on that theological shit, and I have nothing against our alien bros and sis but…a human?”

“He’s a very motherfucking generous human.”

“How much?”

“333.”

Gamzee wasn’t in charge of the books but even he knew most of the donations were small, just twenties and tens. He’d heard special party donations were usually fifty. He didn’t know the exact amount for his last party and didn’t want to. It felt weird knowing beforehand the exact amount. It made him feel like maybe this partying business was what all the hating outsiders called it. Yet with that amount he didn’t feel cheap.

“Damn,” he said, “That settles us a month. I’ma do it.”

“The motherfucking Family is grateful to you, my fellow priest.”

So Gamzee touched up his paint in trailer bathroom and didn’t comb his appropriately-wild hair. He didn’t have his official vestments with him so he went without. After that, he went with his superior to see the generous devotee. He was shocked by what he saw.

The human outsider was filming in this sacred place like it was a tourist attraction. He held his cell phone out at arm’s length and was narrating something. Gamzee couldn’t hear what it was but he didn’t like the tone of voice. He looked at the head priest and found though he wasn’t smiling, he didn’t look angry, just disappointed. Gamzee took cue from his superior and masked his anger.

The head priest cleared his throat and Dave looked up to see the two.

“My amusing guest, this is Brother Gamzee Makara, junior priest. He is here to host you,” the head priest said.

Dave put away his cell phone and looked over this junior priest. He had been expecting a priestess, even though he hadn’t specified he wanted a female. Dave hadn’t because he was proudly biflexiable. He’d made out with tons of dudes. Though he had been hoping for a chubby little juggalette instead of a skinny juggalo, this would do. A mouth is a mouth.

In turn, Gamzee looked Dave over. The human was really pale. Gamzee had heard skin color worked like blood color worked for trolls, though both groups were abandoning that hierarchy. Gamzee thought the hemospectrum made more sense even though the hemospectrum was total bullshit made by haters who hated rainbows. According to the humans’ system, this weak-looking asshole was some sort of royalty.

Dave addressed Gamzee, “Sup, junior bro. Name’s Dave Strider, but people call be turntech Godhead, or Strider if you ain’t hooked up to the internet.”

Godhead? Gamzee though. This guy was spinning blasphemy every time he hooked up the internet.

The head priest replied weakly, “That’s an…interesting handle, um, Strider.”

“Thought of it when I was twelve and it’s kinda lame, but I can’t change it now, cause I’ve already got a brand following.”

“Ahh, you are an important part of the human motherfuckers’ community. We are honored to meet you.”

The head priest nudged Gamzee.

“Fuckin’ hi and shit,” Gamzee muttered.

Now that he was closer to Gamzee, Dave realized how short the young troll was. Sure, he was taller than Dave, but only by an inch. Compared to most trolls he was tiny.

“Our Brother will take you to our sacred lounge,” the head priest said.

Dave followed Gamzee and the head priest to a smaller tent behind the big top. The junior priest went in to prepare the place while Dave waited outside with the head priest. The head priest was nervous and kept telling his guest that the junior priest was just a little unused to this and he really was a nice guy. Dave said over and over he didn’t need reassuring because he was totally chill. He was nervous, but he wasn’t going to fret like the head priest.

Gamzee made the tent look like the sacred space it was supposed to be instead of the storage space it had ended up as. He pushed some of the boxes out the other door and covered the rest in blankets. He opened another box full of furnishings. Shag carpets went down on the rubber mat and inflatable pillows were set around a bowl. He set up the mating rack. He didn’t think the human actually needed the special furniture, but it was going up anyway. He turned on the lantern hanging from the ceiling and the tent was filled with colorful dots. He put his shoes off to the side. When he was done with everything he opened up the front flap and let the human in.

The first thing Dave did was take more pictures. This “lounge” made up for the dull main tent. It looked like the back of groovy 70s van, except for the disturbing chair. What was with that chair? It looked like a Swedish pool chair slash toilet. The thing seriously had a bucket under the seat. Dave knew he had to try it out, whether he wanted to or not.

Gamzee let this asshole do his science exploration bullshit while he said a little prayer to himself. He told himself that this motherfucker was part of the righteous beauty of miracles that the junior priest worshipped so hard. Plus he had a bitchload of boons. He turned on the music and let it flow through him. Dave looked up from examining the chair.

“Is that dubstep?” he asked, “I thought you juggalos listened to hip-hop.”

The music stopped flowing through Gamzee. “No, damnit, it ain’t any human music, it’s the motherfuckin’ troll music, you…but yeah, it ain’t dubstep or hip-hop.”

He stopped gritting his teeth and turned around to greet Dave with a smile.

“Take off your shoes and sit yo ass down…” Dave hovered over near the mating rack. “…on the breathin’ up pillows.”

Dave took off his shoes and lounged down on an inflated cushion. He wondered when he’d get a chance to ride the chair. Gamzee sat across from him.

“So, what do you Juggalos do at these parties?” Dave asked.

“Motherfucker,” Gamzee said as patiently as he could, “Don’t go using the j words, ‘kay?”

“Sorry, but you guys have got to realize it’s a losing battle. Everybody calls you Juggalos. If the Society of Friends can deal with a name that makes them sound like spazs and the Latter-Day Saints can deal with a name that’s a letter away from moron, your church can deal with people connecting you to some bad musicians.”

“I don’t know one fuck what you’re saying.”

“Just some advice. You can take it or leave it.”

Gamzee left the advice and instead picked up the moon mist Faygo bottle he’d left out. He poured the green contents into the ceremonial bowl.

He said solemnly, “We start this most wicked of rituals like all the wicked rituals by slamming some wicked elixir.” He held the bowl head. “This Faygo is the elixir the motherfuckin’ Mother Grub drinks before She can bring the grubs out of all our genetic material.”

“Is that really how it works? Cause I don’t see how you bugboys evolved if you had to wait till soda was invented to reproduce.”

“We didn’t need to wait for any motherfucker to be invented cause this miracle is transubstantiation, ‘kay? It ain’t soda anymore.”

Gamzee took a drink from the ceremonial bowl and handed it to Dave. Dave didn’t move.

“Now you drink the elixir,” Gamzee whispered loudly like he was giving off-stage directions.

“You just said this stuff was royal jelly. I’m not drinking any weird mutating bug juice. But seriously, I’m not going to drink cause I don’t want that waxy feel.”

Gamzee drank the bowl himself. If the human was going to be picky he was going to take all he needed and he needed a lot. He didn’t partake of pies during his working hours and his off-hour hours seemed so long ago. The light alcohol-like effects of soda would have to do. He flipped over the bowl and started drumming up a beat.

“The universe was made from laughter, that came from above all the rafters, so we get together all our giggling, and get ourselves some wriggling, like wriggling naked, not the day for cakes bak-éd…”

“How long is this rap going to go on?”

Gamzee paused for a moment as if to answer before continuing on.

“…and so a motherfuckin’ peace out,” he finally finished.

Dave did something on his phone and then put it away.

Gamzee whispered as if he wasn’t allowed to speak out loud, “What did you just be doing?”

“Recording your rap for posterity.”

“Please delete that shit…and don’t be recording the ceremony? This is private shit.”

“Sure,” he said as he took out the phone and deleted the rap. He’d already sent it to himself, so it really didn’t matter.

“Now that I’ve expressed the rhythm with my voice, I’ll express it with my body,” Gamzee said as he stood up. Dave gulped when he heard that.

Gamzee went over to the CD player and changed tracks. Then, before Dave, he did an erotic dance.

Well, Dave figured it was supposed to be erotic.

When Gamzee was done, he was left only in his boxers. Normally he wouldn’t care about being totally nude, but it felt different with a human.

The human looked over the troll’s mostly naked body. He had three scars at both sides and no belly button. His chest, legs, and arms were as hairless as a swimmer’s. Still, he seemed remarkably human. Dave wondered how human he looked without his boxers.

Gamzee turned off the music. He knelt down in front of Dave and reached towards him. Dave moved back a little before he remembered how uncool it was to flinch from someone he was supposed to get really close to. Gamzee put his large hand on Dave’s check. He suddenly felt the urge to pull his soft human hair but he resisted.

Instead, he spoke softly, “I give you a motherfuckin’ kiss of togetherness.”

And he gave Dave a big kiss on the lips. Dave was actually surprised by this. He hadn’t expecting a kiss in the first place from a prostitute. When the prostitute said he’d give him a kiss, Dave had expected a little peck. But this guy was using his tongue and he was digging down deep. This was serious makeouts.

After a long time Gamzee pulled back suddenly. Even though Dave had been to one with a tongue stuck in his throat, Gamzee was the one breathing hard.

When he caught his breath, he said, “I just remembered, I need to text something to someone.”

He then went and made a little fort behind the boxes.

“Some people are so rude,” Dave muttered.

Gamzee was worried. His moirail had been against him partying not just out of moral reasons. Gamzee could be a little…intense. One time during sex with his kismesis, Equius, he strangled him so hard he almost died. And that was with someone he eventually dumped because he wasn’t into him. He was afraid he did feel very into this guest. This motherfucker was raising pitch in him. Gamzee wasn’t supposed to feel caliginous for a devotee, especially not a human one. He wasn’t supposed to hurt him.

He texted his moirail for help. He sat waiting for two minutes until Dave peeked over.

“Hey, you get your text out?” he asked.

“Yeah, yeah I did,” Gamzee said.

“Good, we can get on with this.”

Gamzee didn’t mention he was waiting for a text back. He treasonously didn’t want to wait to hear his moirail tell him no. Seeing Dave’s stupid face popping in all rude-like made him want him so bad.

They both went back over to the main circle. Dave looked expectantly at the mating rack.

“I’d just like a blow job,” he said, “I mean, like, suck on my dick – my genitals – with your lip curled over your teeth.” God, thought Dave, he felt awkward outlining that.

Gamzee felt patronized by the lip curling advice. Trolls did know that secret. They had to. He did feel relieved that was what the human wanted. It was the less intimate choice. Plus, he was bomb-ass at using his tongue.

“Sit down on that chair and I’ll curl your lips.”

Dave took his chance to sit in the chair he’d been thinking about all ritual. His ass sat around the bucket. Gamzee knelt down and with a deep breath he took off Dave’s jeans and boxers.

Gamzee knew a little bit about human biology. He’d been told it was comparable to troll biology. Instead of having both, human males had bone bulges and human females had nooks. Also, human females had seed flaps and human males had shame globes. He hadn’t expected human shame globes to look so weird. They were huge and fused together. (Contrary to popular belief, shame globes weren’t analogous to testicles.) The bone bulge was soft and pink and had no cartilage sheath. Gamzee heard it was supposed to get firm and rise up. That was his goal. He wasn’t as disgusted by this task as he thought he’d be. It felt exciting to him. He curled his lips and went to work.

Dave sat watching his host go downtown on him. It was a wonderful sight. If the weird skinny guy had anything, it was juicy dick-sucking lips. This guy was acting like a porn star, with moaning and everything. But Dave wasn’t feeling it. All he could think about was all the clown paint was getting on his crotch. He knew the stuff would never truly get out. It’d show up under black light. He’d go to rave and everyone would know he did it with a clown. Though it would have to be a nudist rave for people to find out. Were there nudist raves? He’d still be found out as a clown lover after that kiss even if he wasn’t nude. He’d gotten paint smeared all over him. He then remembered kissing was all he’d done with a man. He’d talked more about gay sex than he’d actually done. He had woken up naked next to a man and assumed he’d lost his gay virginity. He made sure to get tested – oh god, he wasn’t using a condom. Could he get a disease from an alien? No, of course not, but this all made him nervous and he couldn’t enjoy the blow job. Plus, the moans were so fake. Nobody got that turned on from just giving it.

Gamzee was feeling so turned on. Dave’s seeming indifference to him just wound him up. He wanted so hard to make this paper-faced motherfucker react. He crossed his legs and shifted his weight from one knee to the other as his bone bulge wriggling out of its sheath. He gave in and slide his boxers down discretely. His fingers reached the autoerogenous shame globes in his seedflap before he decided he had enough. So he stood up suddenly, grabbed Dave, and threw him to the ground. While Dave was dazed, Gamzee straddled him and held his arms down. If Dave wasn’t going to react to his miracle efforts, maybe he’d react when forced to pull some miracles of his own.

“you bow down to me MOTHERFUCKIN’ HERETIC,” he yelled.

So Dave ended up with alien man-pussy right in his face. He knew trolls had vaginas, but he didn’t know they looked so…normal. The beef curtains had more beef to them but other than that it was a grey-colored vulva. What got to his libido was it smelled like human pussy. If he was going to be forced to give some oral to this hermaphrodite, he preferred going with the lower half than the bizarre wiggling tentacle above it. He gave a tentative lick and it also tasted like human pussy. What the fuck evolution created this convergence? He closed his eyes and started working his own bomb-ass powers.

The first weak-ass licks felt so strong to Gamzee. He was turned on by forcing Dave to do this. Here he had this invading motherfucker getting invaded. He could feel Dave’s fear rumble inside him with his chucklevoodoo powers. He felt a little afraid of himself but he still tore ahead forward. His urge to dominate was dominating him.

Dave was afraid but there was something exciting in the fear. Before his nervous fear had kept him from arousal but now it was the fear of going down a brand-new super-coaster. This was a lot more interesting than getting a blow job he could get from any humanoid. His exotic partner’s moans and growls were real. He liked pleasing people.

Gamzee grew to want a new thrill. He took his hands off Dave’s arms. The weak-ass asshole wasn’t going to escape after all. He leaned back to see Dave had hardened. He was glad he finally got a reaction. He thought about trying out something blacker, a sign of his deep black love. Penetration was reserved for black lovers. Since the human didn’t have anything to penetrate (except for _that_ and like hell he was going there), he had to be the one penetrated.

He lifted himself up and Dave thought it was over when Gamzee slide down to straddle his thighs. Dave looked down at himself to see that with his performance anxiety gone his love tool was ready to work. He looked up to see Gamzee grinning with evil pride. His bone bulge wriggled around his dick. Dave was afraid he’d aim that tentacle lower. Instead he raised himself up and sat down on his dick.

Gamzee found this was a bad idea. Trolls nook weren’t designed for something rigid. The human’s penis fit the wrong. It hurt in an uncomfortable, unsexy way. If Gamzee missed anything about Equius, it was how his long bone bulge wriggled up in just the right place (when he could get the stubborn submissive to fuck him). This penis couldn’t wriggle up into those places. Luckily, it wasn’t very long so it didn’t do much damage. He rocked back and forth instead of up and down while rubbing his bone bulge. He wasn’t going to stop now.

It wasn’t uncomfortable for Dave. The ridges rubbed his dick in the right way. It was much warmer than expected from the coldblood. This alien pussy was like the best pussy. He couldn’t complain. Hell, he was too scared to say anything.

Gamzee pulled Dave up. He took his lube-stained sunglasses off so he could finally see his eyes. They were as bright as the blood that flowed through his veins. Gamzee gave him another kiss and this time he didn’t keep from biting those lips so he could taste that red blood. It tasted like iron, not at all like delicious troll blood. But Gamzee wanted to drink it still. The lip action was so good it made up for the crappy crotch action. Dave was too stiff with fear to do anything to Gamzee as he ripped up his shirt and got gross face paint all over him.

Gamzee had been worked up this whole time so he was the first to go. With a long drawn-out wavering “fuuuuck” he released his genetic material all over the shag rug. He continued rocking on Dave to coax his black lover into orgasm. He was going to make two stains on this rug and keep it forever.

It took too long by Gamzee’s point of view but Dave did come in a punk-ass shrill yell. Gamzee pulled himself off of Dave. They were both surprised by what they saw. Dave found his crotch soaked in purple jam. He didn’t know troll cum didn’t come out their penis. Gamzee didn’t know human genetic material came out their bone bulge. There was a lot of it, though not as much as a troll. He didn’t like any of it being inside of him.

But as Gamzee rolled off of his black crush, he felt satisfied. It was far from the best sex he’d ever had, but it was the most emotionally fulfilling. The only black sex he’d had before was with Equius, and as great as it was it always felt like a duty. This sex was a duty and yet it didn’t feel like it. He wanted to be able to do it again sometime. The afterglow wiped away his hesitation to fall in love with this human. It had to be fate that Dave Strider came to him.

Dave wasn’t feeling satisfied. He was horrified. He faced the question every Modern Man must face: What will I tell the internet? He was planning on just describing the blow job as “pretty good” or “sucked in a bad way”. He hadn’t expected to learn about troll biology up close. He’d been thrown out of his comfort zone.

Then Gamzee said to him, “You know, we had a motherfuckin’ good time here and we got a black vibe going and I’d like to explore it, so maybe we could make ourselves a little date?”

A prostitute was asking him out? That sounded like a brag. “Yo, I’m so damn good ho’s fall in love with _me_ after sex.” He could be flattered. Yet this troll wanted him in one of those alien relationships. They had color-coded names and he wasn’t sure what black meant. Was this the threesome one? Was the chubby juggolette he’d been hoping for going to join them? The idea was intriguing.

Gamzee stared at Dave’s eyes. Even without his concealing shades it was hard to tell what he was thinking.

Dave replied, “I need new pants.”


End file.
